Chapter 14
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ROWAN
“There’s nothing you can do?” I ask, leaning against the counter and watching the mechanic tap away at his computer. “There isn’t another tire place that might have what I need?”
Of course, this would happen now.
As I was trying to leave town with what little dignity I have left, my van lit up like a Christmas tree with a low tire pressure warning. Thankfully, the auto shop was only a block away.
I’d hoped all I needed was a patch. Not a full set of tires.
And definitely not have to wait until Monday or Tuesday.
“Sorry, ma’am,” the mechanic says. “We don’t get many vans like this around here. Mostly pickups and sedans. We can order them, but they won’t be in until Monday.”
I blow out a breath, frustration tightening my throat. But I force myself to swallow it down. I’ve dealt with worse than a flat tire. Way worse. I refuse to let this derail me.
Still, a small part of me wonders if this is the universe sending me a message that I’m not supposed to leave this town yet.
It looks like it’s getting its wish. Because now I’m stuck here for an extra few days. I have no idea where I’ll stay, but I’ll figure it out.
I always do.
“Can I leave it here with you?” I ask. “I’d rather not have to drive it around with the tire like it is.”
“Of course.”
“Let me just grab a few things out of it.”
“No problem.”
I step into the chilly afternoon air and cross the parking lot toward the van. It doesn’t take me long to grab what I need, since I’d packed all my stuff when I left Hayden’s house.
Correction. When I was fired.
The word still stings.
I’ve never been fired before in my life.
Granted, I should have verified my text had been delivered. Just like Hayden should have seen it wasn’t intentional.
But being the arrogant prick he is, he refused. It’s probably for the best, all things considered.
I just need to get through the next few days and then I can be back on my way to my next adventure.
I grab my small suitcase and laptop bag, then climb out of the van. As I lock up, I hear footsteps behind me.
“Here are the keys,” I begin, looking up. “It—”
I stop cold.
Because it’s not the mechanic.
It’s Hayden.
But his eyes are no longer full of anger like they were the last time I saw him.
They’re forlorn, his demeanor at odds with the serious and severe man he usually is.
“W-what are you doing here?” I finally manage to get out.
“Is everything okay?” He looks at the van, then back at me. “What’s wrong with your van?”
“Flat tire,” I explain. “I need to replace the front two, but they won’t be in until Monday.”
He nods, but doesn’t say anything else. Just stares at me.
For a split second, I wonder if he knows the truth.
Did he go into the office and notice the stack of folders was out of place? Did he look through the files and somehow connect the dots?
No. He couldn’t have. There was no identifying information in that letter. Just heartfelt words and a sense of gratitude too big to truly capture.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” I state, placing my hands on my hips. “Why are you here?”
“I was looking for you. I called.”
“I know,” I snap, the words spilling out before I can stop them. “That’s why you fired me, remember? I left my phone in the living room while I vacuumed so you wouldn’t come home to a mess. I made a mistake. You’ve made your point, Hayden.” I push past him, storming toward the building.
“I tried calling to apologize,” he shouts after me.
I stop in my tracks, turning to face him. “Apologize?”
“I…may have overreacted.” He takes a slow step toward me.
“You think?” I snip out.
“I just…” With a long exhale, he shakes his head. “Can we talk?”
A bitter laugh escapes me. “So now you want to talk? You didn’t seem interested in what I had to say a few minutes ago.”
“And I’m sorry about that. I fucked up. All I’m asking for is five minutes of your time. If you still hate me after listening to what I have to say, you’ll never see or hear from me again. Just…give me a chance to make this right.”
I should say no.
I’ve known guys like Hayden before.
I’ve worked with guys like Hayden.
Guys who never take responsibility for their mistakes.
Who are so set in their ways they refuse to admit when they’re wrong.
After I got out of the hospital, I swore I’d never surround myself with anyone like that again.
But is he like that?
“Let me drop off the keys,” I finally say.
Hayden blows out a long breath, his relief palpable. “Thank you.”
I step inside and hand the mechanic my keys. After he promises to call Monday once the replacement tires arrive, I head back outside.
“Okay. Talk,” I tell Hayden, crossing my arms in front of my chest.
He glances around, obviously uneasy about whatever he wants to tell me. “Do you want to go for a walk?”
I gesture to my suitcase. “I’d rather not drag that all over town.”
“You can put it in my car. Afterwards, I’ll take you wherever you want to go. Though I’m hoping it’s back to where you belong.”
“And where’s that?” I arch a brow.
“You know where.” He gives me a knowing look, and I can’t ignore the strange fluttering in my stomach.
Since I first hopped in my van and put my old life in the rearview mirror, I didn’t really care about belonging anywhere. I didn’t want to belong anywhere.
Didn’t want to put down roots.
But in only a matter of days, I’ve felt more at home with Hayden and his kids than I ever did back in Chicago.
Which is why I should walk away right now, especially knowing everything they lost.
But I can’t seem to be able to.
Instead, I nod.
He takes my bags and carries them to his car. Once they’re safe inside, he glances my way.
“Ready?”
I fall into step beside him, and we walk toward the historic downtown area of Sycamore Falls.
Now that it’s approaching December, the storefronts are decked out for the holidays, green wreaths and red bows decorating the lampposts, making it look like something out of a Christmas card.
The sound of conversation and footsteps echo around us, but Hayden doesn’t immediately speak. Instead, he remains silent for several minutes, his mouth set in a tight line, his brows furrowed, as if he’s trying to figure out what to say.
“I know I can be…”
“Difficult,” I offer. “Stubborn. Pigheaded.”
He chuckles, and the sound settles in my chest.
In my heart.
His wife’s heart.
“Yes. All of that,” he agrees. Then his smile drops. “I lost my wife a year ago.”
“I’m sorry.” I keep my expression neutral, not wanting to give anything away.
“It was an accident,” he continues. “A drunk driver ran a red light. T-boned her while she was taking Presley to dance class. Cora walked away with barely a scratch. Presley wasn’t as lucky.
I was working that night. We used to live in Chicago, and I worked in the emergency room at one of the busiest hospitals there.
We were always getting car accident victims wheeled in.
” He shakes his head, briefly squeezing his eyes shut.
“But nothing could have prepared me to see my own daughter being wheeled through those doors, her head and body covered with blood.”
I can physically feel his fear. His panic. As if reliving that moment over and over again.
He probably is. It’s probably played on repeat every day since.
“Is that… Is that why she doesn’t talk? Because of the accident?”
“No. She was talking as she came in, which was a relief. She kept telling me how much everything hurt, and I assured her she’d be okay. And she was. Had some broken bones and a concussion, but nothing permanent.” He swallows hard. “But Cora…” His voice catches on her name.
“What happened? You said she walked away from the accident without a scratch.”
“That’s what I thought. She was walking and talking, so I didn’t think anything of it.
I told her she should get checked out to be on the safe side.
She promised she would once Presley was out of surgery and she knew she was okay.
I didn’t push it. And I should have. If I had… ” He trails off, his voice catching.
“She collapsed in the waiting room a short while later. At first, I figured it was just the adrenaline wearing off. But she never came back around. Never regained consciousness.”
“Oh god…” I press a hand over my heart instinctively — her heart — feeling its steady rhythm beneath my palm.
Hayden’s story is so sad. So tragic. To see her walking and talking one minute, thinking she hadn’t been injured in an accident, to then watch her collapse and never wake up?
I knew the person who donated my heart had to have been declared brain dead in order for them to be able to retrieve her heart and transplant it into me.
But listening to the details knowing I have her heart is more emotional than I thought it would be.
“She had a brain bleed. Subdural hematoma.” His voice fractures.
“She was rushed into surgery to drain it, control the swelling. They couldn’t.
She died a few days later. Presley hasn’t spoken since she said goodbye to her mother as they wheeled her into the operating room so they could donate her organs. ”
I hesitate for a beat. “Do you know who these people are?” I ask, praying he doesn’t find my question suspicious, but I have to know. “The people who received her organs?”
“No. And I don’t want to know,” he declares with determination.” I think… I think it would be too hard.”
“How so?”
“I already lost her once. If I knew who received any of her organs and something happened to them… It would be like I lost her all over again.”
I can understand why he’d feel that way. Transplants can add years you wouldn’t have had otherwise, but they’re not a permanent solution, especially for someone as young as me. I’ll eventually need another transplant, where the risk of rejection or death is much greater.
It’s why I left my job.
To live life while I still can.
“That’s why I overreacted today. When I couldn’t reach you…”
“You thought something happened,” I finish as I stop walking.
He nods, facing me. “My brain immediately rewound to that day.”
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper. “I should have made sure my text went through.”
“You made an honest mistake. I didn’t handle it well. And I’m sorry. I don’t deserve it, but I’d appreciate it if you’d give me another chance. If you’d give us another chance. If not for me, for Jemmy and Presley.”
I flash him a teasing smile. “Are you using them to convince me to come back?”
“Is it working?”
“Maybe.”
“I’ll even pay you more.” He laughs under his breath. “My mom says you deserve hazard pay for dealing with me.”
I grin, meeting his dark eyes. “Your mother’s a smart woman.”
“She’s the best. And is always right. But don’t tell her I said that.” He winks.
“Of course not.”
“What do you say?” He steps toward me. “Will you come back?”
I shift my gaze away from him, taking in the sights and sounds of Sycamore Falls. Of the place I never meant to stay for more than a piece of pie.
But maybe there’s a reason I’m still here.
Maybe all the times I’ve said yes were meant to lead me to this exact place.
To this exact moment.
To these people.
I return my eyes to his, the corners of my mouth curving as I respond, “Yes.”
Not because I have to.
But because I want to.
Relief visibly rolls off Hayden, his shoulders relaxing. Before I can make sense of it, he wraps his arms around me.
I instantly stiffen, the feel of his body against mine sending sparks of electricity through me.
I’ve never had this kind of visceral reaction to a hug before.
Is it because the heart beating inside me somehow recognizes him?
Maybe that’s why I’ve felt a strange pull toward him from the very beginning.
Because the way my body melts into him, the way being in his arms feels like home isn’t normal.
But before I can attempt to figure out these warring emotions, he drops his hold on me, stepping back.
“Sorry. I don’t know why I—”
“It’s okay,” I rush out, a sudden chill washing over me. “Should we head back?”
“Yeah.”
It’s silent as we walk in the direction of his car, both of us mindful to keep a respectful amount of space between us. Obsessively so.
But all I can think of is how perfect it felt to be in his arms for those few seconds.